


Umbrella

by Liquoriceowl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Implied smut?, M/M, the great depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquoriceowl/pseuds/Liquoriceowl
Summary: The great depression hurt people in a lot of ways, as well as the embodiment of the responsible country.Alfred doesn't know how to cope with his emotions. Ivan doesn't either. But they make it work somehow.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like three hours. Wasn't sure where I was going with it but it's something and it doesn't sound too bad? And yes you're absolutely right if you think that I didn't read this again after finishing it. Which is why the punctuation marks are placed like in the german language instead of english. My bad. Enjoy

Everyone called it the Great Depression. A stock market crash resulting in a high percentage of unemployment, deflation, poverty and so on. Involuntarily, The United States had taken a step back.

For Alfred F. Jones, it had a different name. Sleepless nights and biting nails.

It has been going on for too long already and there was no end in sight even with the election of Roosevelt along with his recovery plan. People started leaving the States hoping for the better. Almost any place seemed better than the States at the moment. It gnawed at Alfred like a voracious beast of misery sitting on his shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept well. With luck he got three hours of sleep. With sleeping pills, 7. But they didn't help with much more than sleep. They wore him down, pinned him into bed even after the sunlight had slipped through his curtains to wake him. He couldn't feel their warmth.

But he was the embodiment of this damned country and its people. So even when he felt as if he was drowning in their sorrow, he reached out as far as he could to hold onto what was left. There was more than one reason to keep going on. It was for the mountains, rivers, forests, and soil. The sun rising in New York and setting in San Francisco. The almost 130 Million people that decided that this would be the right place for them and their families to be. And for himself and his love for this place.

This is how he was able to drag himself out of bed each day even though his body felt thrice as heavy. Which wasn't true. He had lost weight. And it didn't go unnoticed.

The other countries voices seemed as if they were talking right into his ear but he couldn't hear their words. His eyes were fixed on his hands as if he was trying to stop them from trembling by intimidating them with his stare. His jaw ached from the way he subconsciously grit his teeth. Alfred wished for everyone to ignore him in this state of mind that screamed anxiety.

The meeting lasted two hours but Alfred was convinced it had been five. On his way out, he almost tripped over his chair. He was so desperate to leave, too distracted from the voices in his head forming sentences that did not make any sense, that he didn't discern the quiet but heavy footsteps following him.

„Stop.. stop talking. Just let me.. think..“

His voice came out rough because he hadn't spoken a word in hours. His tie was constricting him so he pulled it loose but it still didn't feel like he was able to speak. He wanted to scream, but the only sounds emerging from his throat were ragged breaths and please that were hard to understand. He stopped amidst the corridor, unsure if it was the right one. He was standing still but to himself it was like he was staggering like on top of a ship, caught up in a storm. The wetness on his face was from the storm, right? It was raining, yes. His eyes were closed as he was staring upwards into the dark clouds. Merciless winds tossed him to and fro until he almost fell over. Almost. Someone had caught his wrist.

„Alfred. Come around.“

Alfred opened his eyes to Ivan inspecting him with a concerned look on his face. It was unusual for him to dedicate this look to Alfred, but he liked it. The way those violet eyes searched the blue of his own was kind of endearing. When the American didn't answer, Ivan gripped his wrist tighter. It threw him off how easily he could wrap his hand around it. Alfred may have been of a thinner built but this wasn't normal. He tried to ignore it but it was really hard when Alfred's eyes seemed as empty as his stomach.

„Answer me, you idiot!“

While saying that, he had thrown him against the wall, careful not to be too rough. He couldn't believe it himself that he was cautious about handling Alfred, but he feared he might break. Alfred grunted but made no attempt to escape the other's hold. He had no energy for this kind of stuff. The fact that he looked miserable enough to wake Ivan's empathy amused him, so a melancholic smile found its way onto his face.

„What do you want me to say?“

„Anything to assure me that this mood of yours will pass. It's hard to look at you.“

„Then don't. Just go if it's so hard. Leave, like everyone else.“

Ivan wasn't sure how to continue. He hasn't intended to say something that backfired so easily and only worsened the situation. He couldn't even depict why he had gone up to Alfred in the first place. Because of their strange relationship? Who knows.

„I won't leave.“

Alfred let out a bitter laugh that ended with him pushing Ivan away from him. Ivan didn't move much due to Alfred's weakened state. His voice was becoming louder and his face wore more emotion now.

„You said that more than once and I still woke up without you every time! How can I be sure that you're telling the truth this time?“

Ivan held his breath. This situation seemed awfully familiar to both of them. They had lied so often to each other that the definition of „promise“ was something completely different to them than for others.

„You don't have to believe me. Just pretend.“

„Come again, comrade.“

The Russian approached to pull Alfred close, his hand finding his cheek to cup it gently. Alfred was tense all over, what was left of his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

„Pretend.“

Before he could raise his voice again, Ivan kissed him. It was gentle. Even the way Ivan pressed Alfred into the wall was comforting in some way. He hesitated but kissed back, wrapping his arms around Ivan's neck to get them closer together. He was craving more of these sensations that had helped him to get by often enough. Nothing about their bond made sense but right now Ivan seemed to be a shield for Alfred. The creature on his shoulder seemed to have temporarily left, and the rain? .. It kept raining until Ivan pulled back for a moment to wipe the tears off Alfred's face.


End file.
